


Nightmare

by hallulawy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Nightmares, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, seriously I don't know how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallulawy/pseuds/hallulawy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal adopted kid!Will. Will is about 5-6 years old in here, and haunted by nightmares.</p><p>(UPDATE: Chapter 2 after 3 years)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am confused, there's spontaneous writing and I don't know why I would end up having this written.

 

He cries in the night, hides in the dark. Sobs helplessly as his pet nuzzles his arm, his blanket thrown messily across his shivering abdomen. He hates the nightmares, they involve man eating woman, elks trotting over dolls, girls having red over their dresses.

And they all went after him, all craving for his presence in their morbid activities.

_They want to eat him._

A whine is heard, from him perhaps. But a creak covers the pitiful noise. None of his dogs are there to help him scare them off, no barks can wake him up, no teeth that could tear the dreams. 

Just interminable silent screams that echoes in his head, making him run and sweat hopelessly as their claws try to thaw him into their clutches.  


Once, they did caught him.   


The man with a smiling face caught him. His grip strong, his genial features solid as his mouth opens to reveal an abyss of carmine. As the blood mouth near his face, the foul odour of carcasses floods his nose.

He can’t see anything, yet he sees everything.  


He sees how he’s going to get eaten, by this monster that calls him by his name.  


He sees how it tears off his clothes, how it bites his body, how it pulls on his limbs until it hurts.  


He sees the face of a man, a man he knows too well for him to not cry for help.  


So he did.  


His eyes are squeezed so tight, they hurt.  


‘D-Daddy,’ He cries, feeling the sogginess of his collar, the stickiness of his face.   
His hair damp and making the covers wet.  


‘Daddy, h-help,’ He sobs as he kicks the cotton blanket away, only to be pulled into an embrace that he is so certain belongs to the monster.  


‘Hush William, shhh… I’m here,’ The deep, soothing tone tears the monster apart by it's decaying flesh and bones, quietly, and he can finally open his eyes as warmth is offered.  


The familiar pat on his back is calming, and he returns the hug by encircling his small arms around the person, whom he could identify as his father.  


He chokes on his sobs, his tears falls so freely.  


‘It’s alright, Will. The nightmare is over.’ The man coos, his large(warm) hand comes to pet his head, the long fingers comb the soft sweaty locks gently.  


Just the way he knew how to make Will realize he’s back into reality again.

‘I’m sorry.’ Will whispers, knowing tonight is another night where he disturbed his father’s sleep. It’s becoming a routine that Will grows increasingly ashamed of.  


‘Sweetheart, no apologies needed.’ His father murmurs, his thin lips kissing his forehead and looks into the wide sky blue eyes.  


‘It’s okay.’ The pair of russet eyes that reminds him of the pretty flowers in Miss Blooms classroom persuaded him into believing what his father said. He blinks, and snivels as he nods. He could feel himself leaving his single bed and floating in the air, cradled by his father’s strong arms and leaving the dim room as they walk into the lighted corridor.  


‘You’ll sleep with me tonight again, yes?’ Hannibal grins, kisses the small nose as he walks them both to his bedroom.  


Will hides his head in the crook of the man’s neck, inhales the soothing scent of coffee and something else he doesn’t know how to name.  


‘It’s all just a nightmare, Will.’ Hannibal whispers, and he opens the door to the master bedroom.  


‘Okay.’  


Will answers, and he believes.  
There are no nightmares, no monsters to haunt and hunt him down in the night.  


‘Sleep well, my beautiful William.’ Hannibal pecks the rosy cheek, and wraps them both under the covers.  


They wouldn’t harm him, because his father is there to defeat them. He would throw a rope for him to climb out of the dark hole he always dream of. He would make them afraid.  


With that thought, Will buries his small head in his father’s chest, and force himself to forget the horrible monster that resembles his father, and all the other things that made him cried.

They’re fake, they’re bad.

Because his father would never hurt him.

_Ever._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (You can ignore this chapter, it doesn't affect the first chapter in any way.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 3 years... I found this half written in my Tumblr drafts and decided to finish it.  
> I found other stuffs I wrote on Hannigram too, so I'm wondering if I should post them...

After the incident, Will finds it inexcusable for him to cling onto his father that way.

He looks at his pudgy palm and the smooth copper fur of Winston that lightens under the sunlight. Some dogs are sniffing the dewy grass and some simply gone off to embark on their own adventures, perhaps maybe off forever. He counted the few of them that are wandering around and found out Molly and Chilton were gone. Winston whines and wags his tail lightly, asking Will to scratch his belly.

Winston always stayed, Will brushes the fur absentmindedly, his fingers combing through them easily. Unlike the other dogs that never came back, Winston never left Will’s side. Daddy said they were simply strays that recognizes their hospitality (not the same as the word hospital, Will reminds himself, Daddy’s finger swaying in his mind) and after having good meals and comfortable sojourns, they would run off to the woods or suburban areas with their dusty paws.

They don’t cling onto Will and Daddy’s home like how he would onto Daddy like a, a _crybaby_. Will thought miserably, the memory of himself waking up to Daddy’s croon in the morning and how his pajamas are gently removed as Daddy says he needs to go for work, breakfast is on the table. He could almost hear the half stifled yawn as their front door shut closed. His banana muffins and bacon omelette were warm and fluffy on his tongue, like puppy fur. He closed his eyes and starts to _feel_ his surroundings. Everything around him blended into each other, colours eating colours and his morning played in his head with clarity. His glass of fresh orange juice was a stark contrast to Daddy’s big coffee maker (Daddy said something about it’s name being 'Vacuum’), with the carafe being sparkling clean without any droplets of the muddy liquid, resembling the uneasy black walls of Will’s old ‘house’. The big musty smelling house had a lot of sad looking boys and girls like him, and he learnt of the word ‘orphanage’ through the hushed tone of an old lady during one of Daddy’s big parties.

In that house, he never had orange juice or muffins. All he had was stale bread with sour raisins in them. He scrunches his nose at the thought.

And they don’t have the beautiful, complicated coffee machine daddy owned. He felt like touching the curls and swirls, the dainty kettle faucet which Daddy would put his tea cup beneath so that it could be filled with the murk.

He would love to examine it. Love to tweak it and listen to the hum as steam rise in the transparent container. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed.

And Daddy said he would be crossed if Will were to disobey his orders. The dog licks his wrist affectionately.

Daddy never said it, but Will have a feeling that if Daddy is crossed, he may not be able to stay in this nice house anymore. And that made his heart cold and shrink in fear, like how he did on the orphanage’s skimpy beds.

With Winston by his side, he finished his breakfast and took his time to look over the machine carefully before heading outside.

That would be here, now.

At this hour he would be sitting on the steps of the front porch and play with the doggies until it’s time for him to read. Daddy said he need to get prepared for first grade, and he knew it must be somewhere he can’t see Daddy frequent anymore because he was smiling so sadly. But Daddy said that their nights -as he whispered like a secret between them- would always be shared. And that would make Daddy happy again, along with the tutelage of the piano and varied subjects that would remain unchanged even if he went for elementary school.

He looks at his bright red watch, pats his trousers and walks into the house with Winston.

The soft carpet absorbed their steps, and in front of him are the great heights of books that would never daunt him.

The bookshelves are like towers with clouds obscuring their tips, since Will could hardly see the top of the shelves. The books, like bricks placed vertical, are cemented by the proximity in between, with every single of their pages building up the storeys. Will can pick any of the books he wanted and read as long as he could, or at least till it’s drawing or nap time. Lunch would be in the microwave, would be warmed after a few buttons are hit. He doesn’t have the chance to meet other people, other than the ruler backed Mrs. Moore who would only come on Thursdays to clean the windows and cut the grass.

Daddy told him he wouldn’t need anybody else other than him, Will is so exceptionally bright. The pride in Daddy’s smile made him grab onto his shorts with flushed ears.

Winston nudges his palm and whines. Will looks down, his fingers tangled in Winston’s fur. He glanced at his wrist watch and the short needle has reached 'IX’, with the long one sneaking onto 'I’.

He noticed that the other dogs didn’t follow them in previously even as he called them. He thought of calling them in again, but Daddy’s quiet smile appeared in his head and he decided against it.

 

* * *

 

 

He managed to finish The Little Prince today. His back digs into the comfy leather couch even more, and the noisy squeaks made him smile.

He closes the book and hugged it tight before putting it back into the shelves, as though bidding goodbye to a friend before he starts another journey.

As he pulls out Journey to the Center of the Earth, he look over at The Little Prince again, with its slightly battered companion, Le Petit Prince cramped beside it.

 _C'est véritablement utile puisque c'est joli._ He would certainly like to have a star for himself, his finger swipes over the spine of the book like a feather.

 

* * *

 

 

He fell asleep on the floor; Winston huddled around him and provided warmth. Daddy woke him up for dinner with a kiss on his forehead. He said there would be a surprise for him. He sat up, and pushed the blanket that wasn’t there before he slept.

Dinner is delightful as usual. Daddy asked him about his day, and his dessert was a large slice of chocolate mint cake with handful of succulent grapes. Daddy wiped the chocolate off his lips with a napkin and sipped his wine with a smile. He smiled back, cheeks stuffed full with chocolate and mushed grapes.

Daddy played Moonlight Sonata while he sat beside. He could only play the simple pieces, but he would love to see how his fingers would one day tap like Daddy’s. Daddy’s fingers are long and gentle-looking and they’d pull his hand when they’re finished, to the desk where he would be taught Mathematics for the night.

He has gotten used to such routines now. He remember that he arrived in autumn. Now it’s spring.

He did another question correctly and Daddy’s fingers slid through his hair.

 

* * *

 

 

He must have made an odd sound, he must have. Because now his room is full of stars, enveloping every single corner imaginable. A hexagonal projector lies on his reading table, which Daddy murmured the operation instructions to him.

There is the memory of him murmuring thank you to Daddy repeatedly, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, which made Daddy laugh before pointing to his other side.

‘Now that you have this night light, I doubt you would need Daddy around to defeat the nightmares?’ Hannibal carries the child to the bed, placed him gently onto the sheets.

‘I really love it, Daddy,’ Will nods, holding onto Daddy’s arms as his own eyes are filled with the galaxies itself. ‘I wouldn’t trouble you anymore.’

‘No no, Will.’ Hannibal whispers as he tucks the boy into bed. ‘You are never a trouble; it’s just that Daddy may not be able to defeat them in time, so you would have to fight them yourself.’ He kisses the small forehead.

‘I cannot be your dragon all the time, even though I would roast those who would ever harm my darling boy,’ Hannibal coos and tickles the boy’s sides, making him giggle uncontrollably.

‘Would you swallow them?’ Will ask, curious eyes wide and unblinking.

‘Only with the best herbs, and with my little prince by my side.’

‘But people shouldn’t taste good,’ Will scrunches his small button nose at the answer.

‘That’s as true as my lies, and people always utter lies.’ Hannibal pinches the nose affectionately, and turns his back to the bed to reach a storybook on the table.

It only took him half a story to lull his child to sleep, brown curls with stardust in them. He pecked the soft cheeks, and head to the door.

‘ _Bonne nuit, mon petit prince._ _Fais de beaux rêves._ ’

The door closes behind him, and Hannibal walks to the kitchen.

There’s a banquet in two days, a thorough preparation is required.

But Hannibal knows just the right slab of meat to serve as the main course. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I got really daunted in posting fics a few years before because of my self-esteem... I hope this chapter doesn't ruin the story in any way. There's no actual end to this story, and that's the only thing I still remember from 3 years ago.
> 
> Thank you so much for bearing with me.


End file.
